


Moonlight

by jinkazama



Series: Holidays [1]
Category: Tekken
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Christmas, Dysfunctional Family, Finger Sucking, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-19
Updated: 2013-12-19
Packaged: 2018-02-10 16:36:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2032122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jinkazama/pseuds/jinkazama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two Christmas Eves in the Mishima household.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moonlight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thegreymoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreymoon/gifts).



> Originally started as part of the prompt "Christmas traditions" for Merci, I realised this was better suited to the prompt "Solace" for thegreymoon. But I kept the Christmas setting, and the strange structure, because I liked it. This is not fluffy, despite being a Christmas fic. This is also sort of a twin to the other story I wrote for this exchange.

Christmas was always a stressful time in the Mishima household.

Heihachi Mishima opened the doors of his mansion to Tokyo’s elite, and his sons were expected to attend and help him hold court.

When they were young, this was bad enough, but at least they were allowed to go to bed early, after they’d shaken enough hands and had been introduced to dozens of half-drunk business partners.

With Kazuya twenty and Lee nineteen, not only were they expected to stay most of the evening, but also to put up with the pointed questions and knowing glances from half the room.

Heihachi was approaching his fifties, and everyone wanted to get a good look at his heir.

Kazuya was naturally stoic, and not one given to social niceties. He loathed the insincere smiles, the eyes that lingered on him, the hushed whispers.

Lee found it easier to flash a fake smile and pretend he didn’t hear the patronising murmurs and occasional Sinophobic remarks.

Heihachi had taken them aside before the party and smilingly threatened them should they put so much as a toe out of line.

He addressed Kazuya, cold and proud, first.

“There are some very important partners coming here. You will smile at them, ask after their children, tell them about university and the work you do at the Zaibatsu and act as though you are delighted to see them _and then you will leave_.”

Kazuya said nothing, but his dark eyes were scornful at being forced to take part in such nonsense.

Heihachi locked eyes with him, trying to force Kazuya to drop his gaze. They stared in silence for a moment, then Heihachi moved on to Lee, pale and slightly anxious in his dark suit.

“And you will do exactly the same, and should we have a repeat of last year’s incident, you will leave this house and not return. No arguing or talking back to my guests. Is that understood?”

Lee had taken umbrage with being described as “Heihachi’s Chinese mutt” by a senior government minister.

Heihachi had manoeuvred him away, smiling and apologising for his son’s behaviour, blaming Lee’s inability to hold his drink. Away from the eyes of the guests, he’d punched Lee hard in the stomach, causing him to double over and gasp, eyes wrenched shut to avoid spilling the tears that rose as a natural reaction. He slid to the floor, hunched over in pain.

Kazuya saw it all, having followed silently.

Heihachi’s voice was as cold as the grave.

“I brought you into this house. I can just as easily put you back out there.”

“Father…”

“What did he say to you?”

“He called me a Chinese mutt, Father!”

There was a silence while Heihachi took that in. Kazuya heard his brother’s desperate gasps as he tried to regain his breath after Heihachi’s fierce punch had knocked the wind out of him.

“But you _are_ Chinese, Lee. And you are adopted. You are not my son by blood.”

Lee didn’t respond, and Kazuya could picture the shock on his face.

Heihachi’s formal geta sandals clattered as he crossed the floor again and leaned over Lee.

“I will deal with him in my own time for insulting someone of the family, blood or not…but I will not have you shaming me in my own home, do you understand?”

Lee’s whisper was faint and terrified.

“Yes Father.”

“Good boy. Now, you have another hour before you may leave my guests. Compose yourself and come back in a few minutes.”

Kazuya sidestepped into an alcove, and Heihachi swept right past him on his way back to the party. He waited until his father had closed the door behind him, and went to Lee. Lee started when the door opened again, and relaxed only slightly when he saw it was Kazuya.

It had only been a few months since their strange and terrible relationship had started, and they would never be able to stop seeing each other as rivals. There was still a great deal of hate between them and it informed many of their interactions. Every day it started all over again. Sometimes Lee would hurt Kazuya. Sometimes Kazuya would hurt Lee. Where they sided with each other was where Heihachi became involved. It was their need to find a common source of solace in their lives that had led them to this.

Kazuya dropped to his knees in front of Lee, mindful that his father could return at any moment. Lee looked at him, face pale and eyes red-rimmed from involuntary tears.

Kazuya stretched out his hand, and stroked Lee’s silver hair back into place gently. His brother relaxed as Kazuya’s fingers worked through his hair.

“I’ve stolen a bottle of whiskey from the party. It’s in my room. Meet me there after you’re allowed to leave.”

They were the first words Kazuya had spoken to Lee all day.

Lee nodded, and suddenly he moved towards Kazuya and wrapped his arms around him, drawing him into a brief, desperate embrace.

Kazuya kissed back fiercely, tasting the tears on Lee’s lips, and it was mere seconds before they broke apart.

“I have to go back before he misses me too. Don’t be long.”

He stood, and left without looking back.

Lee reappeared a few minutes later, looking a little pale and wan, but that could easily be chalked up to not being able to hold his alcohol – which is exactly what he told everyone who asked out of feigned and real concern alike.

Kazuya mingled, contorting his face into unfamiliar smiles that he imagined looked more like grimaces, and every so often he would glance discreetly at the ornate clock over the mantelpiece, at his father, and finally at Lee to confirm his whereabouts.

In fact it was well after eleven when Heihachi finally clapped his large hands together, and everyone fell silent and turned towards him expectantly.

“The time has come to bid farewell to my dear sons for the evening.”

Lee’s eyes met Kazuya’s and they each shared a moment of silent relief that soon this torture would end.

“My sons, come to me please.”

The crowds parted as they made their separate ways to him. They each stood on either side of him.

He turned to Kazuya.

“Merry Christmas, Kazuya” he boomed, and pulled Kazuya into an awkward hug. The guests cheered and Lee stared, trying to hide his disbelief. Kazuya allowed himself to be hugged, but Lee could see the way he gazed blankly over their father’s shoulder.

Heihachi let Kazuya go, and turned to Lee.

“Merry Christmas, Lee!” and then it was Lee’s turn to be embraced by those iron arms, feeling his father’s grip that was more like a grapple. He tried to relax into it, to make it look more natural, but then it was over, the cheers of the guests ringing in his ears, and Heihachi was pulling away with a hard gleam in his eye.

They stood, and the crowd raised their glasses as Heihachi wished them a Merry Christmas and said he’d see them in the morning.

Kazuya looked at Lee, and then they both bowed briefly, letting the drunken cheers of the guests wash over them. Lee looked at their father and saw his face split in a genuine smile. He was happy.

Without further ado, Kazuya nodded briefly to his father, and began making his way through the crowd to the stairs. Lee did the same, and followed.

They didn’t speak until they were safely upstairs and in Kazuya’s room. Kazuya shut the door and leaned his chair against it. Reaching into his desk, he withdrew the promised whiskey and two glasses.

Lee was gratefully inhaling his first cigarette of the evening, relishing the cool smoke.

“I hate him.”

He looked over to Kazuya, who’d finished pouring their drinks. Lee nodded, without saying anything.

“Don’t you?”

“Yes but it’s different for me. You know it is.”

Kazuya handed him a glass, but there was a look of displeasure in his eyes. Lee took it, and drank immediately, feeling the whiskey heat his throat as he swallowed. Kazuya sat back on the floor with his legs crossed, and merely sipped from his glass, eyeing Lee over it. He hadn’t bothered to turn on his light, so they gazed at each other through the moonlight that shone down on them, casting shadows and painting everything in silver.

“I heard what he said to you.”

Lee shrugged, and got down on the floor to sit opposite his brother, stretching his long legs out til they were parallel to Kazuya’s. Kazuya longed to reach out his hand and run it down one of those muscular calves, but he didn’t.

“I know you did. What does it matter?”

“The things he said…”

“…are true. Maybe not in those terms, but you know they are. You’ve called me them yourself, after all.”

Kazuya sipped his drink and didn’t say anything.

Lee leaned back and looked up at the ceiling, annoyed.

“Just forget it, ok? Things are different for us. They always were and always will be.”

Lee knocked his drink back and held out his empty glass for a refill. He never drank much but he was certainly feeling the need tonight.

Kazuya tipped the bottle and Lee shook his head. “No, two fingers.”

He took his glass back and looked into it, breathing in the smell of the drink. Heihachi liked his whiskey to smell like peat, dank and smoky, and the scent made Lee’s nose twist in distaste. Still, it was filling him with a lovely warmth and gradually making all the evening’s humiliations fade into the distance, and for that he was grateful.

“Should have got ice,” he muttered, almost to himself, and Kazuya actually smiled.

“You lightweight,” he teased, and Lee looked up and saw a distinctly mischievous glint in his brother’s eye.

Lee looked away, towards the window, and saw it was snowing. The flakes came down dense and huge, floating from an empty white sky and settling on everything, blotting out the land below. He leaned back on his elbows and watched the flakes drift for a few moments.

Kazuya followed Lee’s gaze.

“Maybe we could hold your glass outside if you want some ice for that.”

Lee smiled and shook his silver hair back off his face, and watched his brother eyeing his lips and his throat before trailing his eyes slowly down his body. Kazuya was hard, and he shamelessly stared at Lee as he fondled himself through his formal suit trousers.

He dipped two fingers into his glass of whiskey and offered them to Lee.

“Come here,” he said softly, his dark eyes burning into Lee.

Lee didn’t need a further invitation. He crawled across to Kazuya and took the hand. He drew the fingers to his lips, and made full eye contact as he sucked them slowly, until he couldn’t taste whiskey anymore. Kazuya exhaled slowly, and kept watching him.

Lee gave Kazuya’s fingers a final, lingering suck, and drew them from his mouth.

Kazuya sat back, and indicated for Lee to sit on his lap. Smiling, Lee lowered himself into Kazuya’s lap, curling his long legs around Kazuya’s hips, feeling his erection hot against him. He rubbed himself shamelessly against his brother, and Kazuya moaned.

Their lips met, and the kiss was slow, and sweet.

Breaking away, Kazuya was about to speak, and was interrupted by the sound of loud cheers from downstairs. He looked at his watch.

“It’s midnight. Merry Christmas,” he said roughly, but Lee responded “Merry Christmas to you too” and pushed his mouth back onto Kazuya’s, more insistent and urgent than before. His brother responded with equal ferocity, pulling Lee’s hips down to grind against him, rubbing him through his trousers. Lee gasped, and pulled away.

Kazuya kissed his mouth hard, then lowered his head to drop a lingering kiss on his throat, tracing Lee’s suprasternal notch with his thumb lightly. Lee froze, aware that his brother could crush his windpipe with a single thrust, but Kazuya merely smiled and slid his tongue into the notch briefly, before repeating the pattern again.

Lips, throat, notch, over and over again until Lee was flushed and stiff and aching.

Kazuya broke away, finally, and looked at him meditatively.

It was then that they heard their father’s knock at the door.

Lee froze, and Kazuya looked at him in sheer horror, but he recovered himself, and pointed towards his wardrobe. Lee stood, trying desperately to regain control over his lower body, and inched towards the wardrobe. Kazuya hid the bottle and glasses in his desk and looked over his shoulder to ensure Lee was safely hidden.

He stepped forward and opened the door to his father.

Heihachi walked straight in and stood, looking out the window at the snow for a moment.

Kazuya folded his arms across his chest and waited, wondering what his father wanted.

“The guests have gone.”

“I know.”

Kazuya felt as though he was walking backward on a high ledge blindfolded when his father started one of these little talks. It was always better to remain silent; then he couldn’t use your words against you.

“Lee’s not in his room.”

“Why were you looking for him?”

Heihachi tilted his head, peering at his eldest son for a moment. “That’s no concern of yours.”

Kazuya spread his hands. “I haven’t seen him since we left the party. I just assumed he went to his room.”

Still Heihachi lingered, picking up books and turning them over in his hands, making Kazuya uneasy. His bedroom was supposed to be his sanctuary. His father being there, touching his possessions made him deeply uneasy, and afraid. He looked away, feigning boredom.

Heihachi paused in front of the wardrobe and Kazuya’s blood froze. He wondered if Lee had managed to cover himself, if there was a tendril of silver hair shining through…

“You are nineteen now,” his father spoke, turning over an old comic he’d plucked from the top shelf of the wardrobe. “Time to become the man your blood demands that you be. I have been lenient with you for far too long.”

His hands flew, and colourful paper confetti drifted to the floor in strips. He dropped the remains of the comic with a sneer of disgust.

“Time to put away childish things.”

It was only an old comic, easily replaced, but Kazuya remembered exactly where and when he’d bought that issue. He’d been having difficulty in school, and every evening brought more fresh hell from his father, as he stood over his cowering son and criticised every mistake he made on his work until all the characters swam before Kazuya’s eyes in an indistinguishable black mess and he had to bow his head to disguise the tears shining there.

Tears were weak. Weakness brought more of his father’s anger.

He had been eight years old.

One afternoon his father hadn’t sent the car for him and he’d been free to walk home. On the way back, he passed a comic shop and bought it; it was only a cheap story about some American superhero, but Kazuya devoured the story eagerly, and that night, back tingling from his father’s belt, he read it again under the covers, revelling in the story of the boy who discovered he had superpowers and broke out of the abusive orphanage he spent his miserable life in.

He still leafed through the curling pages from time to time.

Kazuya struggled to maintain a neutral expression, as his father’s wicked eyes sneered at him, silently goading him into a reaction he couldn’t afford. He put his hands behind his back, so he could clench his fists unseen, but he couldn’t hide the raw hate in his eyes, and his father knew it. Dropping his gaze would give the old man yet another victory over him.

They stayed still in their positions, frozen. Minutes passed…and then Heihachi’s lip curled derisively, and he strode past his eldest son, slamming the door behind him.

Kazuya remained rooted to the spot, listening for the sound of his father’s step fading away into the distance. A sense of shame came over him, followed by a towering, boiling rage. He didn’t even remember to be relieved that the intrusion had only lasted a few minutes.

His father rarely came into his room; Kazuya thought of it as his sanctuary. Here was where he had tended to so many of his cuts and bruises, free to wince as he pressed iodine to each wound. Here was where he buried himself in his books, piling them high around the room. He knew exactly where each one of them was at a given moment. Here was where Lee came to him; sometimes for a few minutes, sometimes for hours, on rare occasions the whole night. Lee’s room wasn’t safe.

Lee.

He turned, and saw Lee stepping from the wardrobe, pale and shaken.

The mood had been broken. They looked at each other for a moment.

Kazuya wanted Lee to stay, to feel that body pressed against him, but it wasn’t safe.

They met in the middle of the floor and their mouths met in a fierce, burning kiss that pulled the breath from their bodies and they broke apart gasping. Without saying a word, Lee turned and slipped off to his own room.

A year later, they’d repeated the farce of the party.

A lot can change in a year.

They were older, more equipped to deal with things. Another year had made them harder, more resilient. They found all the solace they sought in their snatched kisses and secret meetings.

As Heihachi warned Lee not to talk back to his guests, Lee nodded distantly, put on his smooth emotionless mask and said “Yes, Father” dutifully. His mind was elsewhere, two hours back where Kazuya had caressed the back of his neck briefly while Heihachi was in the hall, talking to the servants. Kazuya’s thumbs were calloused and rough, and the contrast between the tip of his thumb and the tender skin at the back of his neck made him shiver. That brief touch told him that whatever happened that evening, Kazuya would meet him later.

It was secret, it was forbidden, it was _theirs_.

Kazuya was equally distracted. He held the memory of the scent of Lee’s hair at the forefront of his mind, and the way it felt when he snatched at it during their meetings. It slipped through his hands, silky and evasive, and he’d pull at it til it was damp and didn’t escape so easily. Often they’d meet for mere minutes, yet the intimacy that they shared during even the briefest spells together sustained them through whatever horrors Heihachi had in store for them until they could meet again.

Heihachi watched, and did not understand, and was threatened, though he would not admit this even in his darkest moments.

At twenty, Kazuya had become more powerful, and far more rebellious, and Heihachi, torn between the urge to crush any sign of dissidence and the urge to encourage Kazuya’s power, did nothing. During the day, he attended university, breezing through business classes with his habitual selfassurance, and in the evening he studied, trained and remained as remote and unreachable as he ever was.

What could he do?

Lee became stronger, and more capable of concealing all his emotions behind a smooth, impenetrable façade. Kazuya had always enjoyed this tendency of his, and relished the difference between the cool, charming mask and the cruel passion beneath it.

 _His_ Lee was never able to keep the mask on when they were alone together.

Their party that year had been meticulously planned by Heihachi, who was plotting yet another one of his deals, and he was very anxious that it went well. So anxious, in fact, that he had restrained himself from aiming at or hitting his sons’ faces in training for a whole week, though they both bore bruises in various shades of purple beneath their bespoke suits.

Lee saw the minister who’d called him a Chinese mutt the year before and smiled charmingly at him, asking after his family and about work. Kazuya, watching from a corner, noticed the hard glint in Lee’s eyes when the man turned away to speak to someone else.

Lee had not forgotten, and he had certainly not forgiven.

Kazuya for his part merely projected his usual cool hauteur, and if one was the sort of person who was impressed by the kind of wealth and status and bloodlines he had, they would be inclined to attribute it to “mysteriousness” rather than “aloofness”.

Heihachi watched, and did not understand.

He found his eyes increasingly drawn to his two sons as they moved throughout the room; Lee beguiling with smiles, warm looks, even little touches of the hands for some of the daughters. Kazuya parted the crowd with his mere presence, and by virtue of only ever speaking a few words, had people hanging on for every single one he deigned to dispense.

When the clock struck eleven, Heihachi found himself only too eager to get rid of them.

They unnerved him.

As his eldest son hugged him back with a grip that looked to the crowd like the embrace of a loving son but was actually just a demonstration of his increased strength, Heihachi felt the cold certainty that one day this man would kill him.

Lee’s embrace pleased the crowd no less, but Heihachi saw the same hard look in his dark brown eyes that he’d remembered when he offered the child the chance to come to Japan with him.

He watched them leave, and was troubled, and later he would pause before entering his room, wondering if he should go and speak to Kazuya. _Really_ speak to him.

He decided not to, and went to bed troubled, and with no more understanding than he would have gained from talking to the cool creature that wore his son’s face.

In Kazuya’s room, he drew a bottle of whiskey from his desk, and two crystal tumblers while Lee stood watching the snow outside. The full moon was low in the sky, and everything was bathed in an eerie, silvery light. Snow came floating down from the sky, the flakes thick and soft and heavy. The kind that would stick, that you could make snowmen out of.

Not that either of them had ever built a snowman.

“Here,” Kazuya said, and handed Lee his tumbler.

Lee took the glass without turning, and sipped, letting the whiskey burn across his tongue and down the back of his throat; he coughed and spluttered, taken by surprise. It was a different taste than the other kinds he had tried before; heathery with honeyed undertones. As the burning sensation ebbed away, he was left with a pleasant warmth. He gazed at Kazuya through softened eyes, and Kazuya laughed.

“I never remember to get you ice. You clearly need it.”

Lee eyed the downy flakes slipping down outside. The warmth was rushing through him, lighting him up, and Kazuya’s eyes on him enhanced the effect. He felt mischievous, and he opened the window, holding his glass out to catch a few flakes in his glass.

Shutting the window, he finally turned around to Kazuya, who was looking at him curiously.

“Well?”

Lee brought the glass to his lips, sipped, and grimaced. It tasted absolutely disgusting. Kazuya laughed at him quietly.

“Drink up, I’ll give you more.”

Lee raised his glass and knocked back the disgusting mix of melting snowflakes and whiskey in one swallow. Kazuya’s eyes focused greedily on his lips and throat. He took Lee’s glass and refilled it, handing it back without a word.

Lee’s head was swimming. Kazuya’s direct gaze was making him hot and the whiskey made him feel relaxed, soft, and pliant. Kazuya sat on his floor, back to his bed, and sipped his own whiskey, still staring at Lee.

Lee sat, rather more heavily than normal, and looked back at him. Kazuya had taken off his suit jacket and Lee traced the shape of his broad shoulders and strong arms through his shirt. His suit trousers clung to his long muscular thighs, and to his erection.

Kazuya saw where Lee was looking, and his smirk deepened.

Lee raised his glass and drank again, keeping eye contact. He shrugged off his suit jacket and flung it carelessly behind him.

“I’m warm,” he explained unnecessarily.

Lee finished the rest of his glass. Kazuya raised an eyebrow.

“You’re getting through that very fast.”

“I just want to block out that terrible party.”

“There are better ways to do that.”

“Really?” Lee asked, playing along. As though he hadn’t been thinking about Kazuya fucking him all day. As though every jibe and sneer and punch hadn’t been pushed aside by thoughts of his brother’s rough hands and mouth on him.

He wanted what they hadn’t finished last Christmas, what their father had interrupted.

“On second thought,” Kazuya stated “you can have some more.”

He dipped two fingers in his own glass and held them out to Lee.

Smiling, Lee closed the short distance and knelt in front of his brother. He took the fingers into his mouth and sucked them clean, staring boldly at Kazuya as he did so.

Those dark eyes flickered, and Kazuya wordlessly withdrew his fingers from Lee’s mouth. He dipped them in the glass again, and Lee sucked them clean again. When Kazuya’s glass was empty, Lee barely had time to react before his brother reached out and dragged him onto his lap, crushing their mouths together.

Lee straddled Kazuya, feeling his brother’s hard cock push greedily against him as Kazuya’s rough hands roamed over his body. Those hands which had struck him with great force over the years now slid into his shining silver hair, messing it up. Now they were on his back, pulling him closer, almost on top of Kazuya. Kazuya’s hot tongue was in his mouth, and Lee returned the favour.

They were disturbed by the sound of cheers from downstairs.

“Merry Christmas,” Kazuya smirked. His pale skin was flushed from whiskey and their efforts. His dark brown eyes gleamed in the moonlight.

Lee smiled, but he was worried.

“What if he comes up again?”

“I saw his face. He won’t,” Kazuya predicted, busily unbuttoning Lee’s shirt.

“But –”

“Do you want this or not?” Kazuya said softly. He stopped what he was doing, and looked at Lee.

“Yes.”

Kazuya’s mouth twisted into a familiar smirk. “Tell me. I want to hear you say it.” He leaned closer, getting in Lee’s space. Lee shivered and looked at him.

“Fuck me.”

“Fuck me what?”

“Fuck me _hard_.”

Lee’s shirt slid off and Kazuya flung it somewhere carelessly.

Kazuya undressed himself unfussily, and stood naked before Lee. He stood and bent to retrieve a tube of lubricant from somewhere behind him. Lee’s eyes roved over Kazuya’s well-muscled form, and he grew harder.

Kazuya dropped to his knees and beckoned Lee to come to him again. He had slicked up two fingers – not the ones Lee had been sucking, thankfully – and as Lee straddled him again, Kazuya wordlessly slid both into him at once.

The alcohol had made him more relaxed, but Lee still gasped. He couldn’t help it. Kazuya smirked. His fingers began working inside him, relentless and practiced. Kazuya knew his body so well.

Lee, desperate to regain some measure of control, put his arms around his brother’s neck and started pushing himself down onto the fingers, trying to get more contact.

Kazuya’s smirk deepened.

“Stop pretending you’re the one in control here.”

His mouth was on Lee’s again, and his free hand held Lee steady, as his other hand worked tirelessly inside him. He flicked over Lee’s prostate, and every time he did, Lee shuddered.

Finally, Kazuya withdrew his hand and broke the kiss. His cock was rigid and gleaming with pre-come.

“How…?”

“On the floor, on your back. I’m going to fuck you hard and I want to see your face as you come for me.”

Kazuya pushed Lee off him unceremoniously, and began slicking up his cock, working quickly.

Lee lay back and stroked his cock, looking up at his brother.

Kazuya leaned down, and raised Lee’s hips. He pushed his cock into Lee without waiting for him to adjust and Lee nearly cried out. Kazuya smirked. _That bastard_.

He started thrusting then, and caught between his merciless strokes and the wooden floor, Lee couldn’t move. Kazuya held him fast, he couldn’t move, and he loved every second of it. His brother’s dark eyes burned down into him, saying all the words he couldn’t say, wouldn’t say. Lee moved his hips as much as he was allowed to, but Kazuya was in total control, and fucked him brutally, pushing against his prostate hard and fast until Lee was flushed and aching and close. Those eyes fastened on his, watching for the signs, and to be looked at by Kazuya like that was too much. He came hard, biting his hand to muffle the cries, and Kazuya looked down at him, triumphant and magnificent. He was close too, then, dark hair gleaming with sweat, skin flushed with alcohol and arousal and exertion, and he slammed harder into Lee, looking for his own release.

Lee recovered himself, and looked up into his brother’s dark gaze.

“Harder, Kazuya. Fuck me harder. I can take it.”

Kazuya’s eyes were on him, and the pace of his strokes increased, he was so close. He didn’t speak as he looked down at his brother.

“You _know_ I can. That’s why I’m yours.”

Kazuya smiled, and leaned forward. He choked out a sobbed gasp, ragged and desperate, as he bit down on Lee’s shoulder, and Lee smiled as he came, filling him up with liquid heat, as Kazuya’s teeth sank into his soft skin.

They remained like that for a moment, and then Kazuya withdrew. The marks of his teeth were deep, and he’d broken the skin. Lee lay for a moment, watching him. Kazuya’s skin shone in the moonlight, and his breaths slowed as he composed himself.

Every second they were together was a risk. Every time he lingered, he wondered if this would be it.

Every day they grew stronger, but the hate grew deeper. To find solace in something like this was necessary if they were to avoid having their spirits broken by Heihachi. This was what Lee told himself.

Kazuya simply didn’t care. He was long past feeling guilt over their relationship. Guilt was weakness. Guilt was something he didn’t need if he was to avoid being destroyed by his father.

Lee finished dressing, and looked at Kazuya, who was watching him from his bed.

One last kiss, fierce and tender, and then Lee was gone. It was too much of a risk to stay any longer.

Both had learned at a young age the importance of seeking solace where you can.


End file.
